


Writings on the wall: Buckle up

by pixiedurango



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Comfort, Dorks in Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Short & Sweet, Sweet, pre romance, writings on the wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedurango/pseuds/pixiedurango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s my contribution to the “writings on the wall” writer’s event and features an (yet) unromanced but (already) highly attracted Blackwall and my Arya Trevelyan. It’s set early in game, still located in Haven, probably they made camp at Lake Luthia in the Hinterlands in this setting. I just assume they gave him a Warden’s armor since he still pretends he is one.<br/>I just love them so much wiggling around each other, not yet doing the next step.<br/>It’s some fluffy, flirty stuff… some comfort, but no real hurt in the common sense of this trope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writings on the wall: Buckle up

 

He was always one of the first to be up in the morning. No matter if at camp or at Haven, Blackwall actually enjoyed the quiet of those mornings.

Seeing the night change to dawn and finally turning into daylight. Setting up the kettle brewing some tea or coffee and prepare something for breakfast, may it be scrambled eggs with bacon or some sweet porridge. He had become a wanted member of any field mission for this habit and, to be honest, he liked doing this kind of things for those people who had taken him in without further questions.

He liked doing it for _her_.

But of course, this had to be kept to himself. No matter how much The Herald kept on hitting on him and no matter how much he loved that and wanted to give in – this was something he could not allow to happen.

And so he forced his eyes back to the fire this very morning when he realized that she had left her tent, probably to take a bath in the nearby pond. She was early, too, and he hoped that she would not have noticed that he was not only up to prepare breakfast.

Maybe she won’t even notice him, he hoped, well knowing that Arya Trevelyan was everything but a morning person.

She had not greeted as she slipped out of camp so probably she won’t be in the mood for a morning chat when she returned.

Blackwall increased his efforts to get done with what he was busy and what was the reason he had decided to get up extra early. And it showed he had been right about this decision to buy himself a bit extra time by cutting sleep.

Desperately he tried to properly put on his armor, but it seemed to consist of nothing but buckles and laces and nimble things he simply could not mend together today.

Usually, he could do all that literally in his sleep, but thanks to the heavy boot of one of the bandits they had fought yesterday - which ended up stepping on his hand while he had to get up from a heavy blow he had taken while protecting the Herald - his thumb was not only swollen and in pain but colored in deep blue, green and violet shades of a solid hematoma.

It was only a minor bruise and would not affect his abilities to fight, but everything that needed precise and small maneuvers was simply impossible. Nevertheless, Blackwall did not intend to let that learn anybody.

Being a burden was the last thing he intended to be.

„Let me do this. You will either break your armor or your poor fingers.“ Her voice was amused, but not as teasing as he knew it could be.

_Makers balls_ , she had caught him and of course, she already knew that there was something wrong. Not much seemed to escape her beautiful eyes.

„Never mind, my lady.“ Blackwall tried to reject, desperately tugging on a buckle that was not cooperative at all. And so he failed, again and again, to get the sturdy leather strap through its eye. „I do this almost all my life. I can handle it.“

„I can _see_ that!” _Now_ she was teasing.

He looked up and his eyes widened. Her black hair was still soaking wet and kept on dripping from her bare shoulders onto the linen blanket she had wrapped around her body. Not even to say if she wore any smalls, but she simply did not care.

„Show me your hand!“ she demanded and he had no idea how to wiggle himself out of this mess.

„My lady…“ he tried, but it sounded too lame to impress her.

She knelt down and grabbed his hand. Blackwall did not know where to look in his sheer embarrassment: The Herald of Andraste knelt in front of him. The woman he secretly adored and desperately pined after: Almost naked and dripping wet from her morning bath.

But she was not playing games or tried to flirt right now.

„ _Makers balls_!“ it slipped from her lips when she finally was done inspecting his thumb. „What did you do? Letting a nuggalope step on it?“

„It will heal.“ Reluctant and unwilling he tried to have his hand back because he already liked it way too much having her so close and even holding his hand.

She nodded.

„Of course, it will. Can you hold your sword in the meantime? And don’t lie to me!“

He flinched! That was probably the worst she could ever ask him for. But he called himself to order. It was a legitimate question from a soldier’s point of view and she deserved an honest answer.

„I have nine other fingers, one other thumb. I can fulfill my duty.“ He muttered, but she still refused to let off of his hand.

„I’m no healer, but I’ll provide you with something later that will ease the pain. And we should stabilize it a bit more than the gauntlet will already do.“ Practical mind as always. He admired that and nodded approvingly.

„Aye, my lady.“

„And now let’s see how we get you into your armor in time before the others wake up.“ Her glance made clear that she would not have any argument about that matter with him and he finally sighed acceptingly.

He was surprised how organized she approached the matter. Either she could easily understand how the numerous pieces belonged together or she had watched him closer and more often than he had ever estimated.

He was happy that he had been able to get into his breeches all alone earlier before she had sown up. Lacing up the waistband had been a torture, but he was glad he had managed to do it somehow. Embarrassing enough to have her fumble on his armor, but he had no doubt that she would have done also _that_ without hesitation. Only the fact that she probably would have done all this for _all_ her companions and friends if they would be in need, made him fall back at ease again.

„Won’t you go and put your armor on first?“ he carefully suggested, as she was done closing the clasps of his blue and studded warden gambeson.

She looked down at herself, just realizing that she may be dressed a bit inappropriate, but she shrugged.

„No time. I’ll jump into it later. The knot is tight enough so I might stay modest. _For now_.“ She winked at him and he grinned, while he swung the chest plate with the back protector over his head.

„Fair enough.“ he could not help but grin.

„Arms up!“ she demanded and began to fasten the belts that would hold the plates in place. She was so close that he could breathe her scent.

„Where does this caramel come from? Is it a perfume you use?“ when it had slipped he bit his tongue. He had sworn to himself, not to ask personal questions and if that was not personal…

But she only shrugged.

„Been told that I smell of caramel at times. Have no idea where this comes from. Could be worse, Couldn’t it?.“

„I like caramel.“

_Makers balls, shut up man!_

For a moment, she took away her eyes from the clasps she was just working on and looked directly into his.

He chuckled helplessly and embarrassed about himself while he felt himself drowning in violet depths of vibrant energy.

„Good to know. Now get me that piece for the upper arm!“ her smile was more a smirk and he felt it hitting him deep down in his guts and below.

„Rerebrace, my lady.” He handed it over.

„Whatever… as long as it does its duty.” Blackwall could nothing but agree.

„Aye.”

She wrapped the leather straps around his arm taking good care it would hold the protectors in place, but would not be too tight to cut the blood flow or limit his mobility.

He smiled while he watched her working. Adding his couters to his elbows and finally attaching the huge pauldrons onto his shoulders. She worked in utter concentration and seemed not to be into any kind of chitchat right now. He recognized how her nose wrinkled and how she nibbled on her lower lip while she was taking care that she would not forget a single notch and belt. She was adorable!

Attaching his harness with the sheath of his massive two-hander to his back and closing every single belt around his torso, adding the tasset that would protect his hips and the vulnerable femoral artery. Working steady and silent. Then she grabbed for one of the cuisses and knelt down once more.

The embarrassment was back all of a sudden.

„I’m so sorry, my lady.” his voice was hoarse. How could he ever forgive himself, letting her kneel numerous times in front of him just because he had not paid attention in battle.

„Shush! You can think of a proper payback later, but for now, I don’t want to hear another apology!” her voice made sure she meant it.

This woman never failed to amaze him.

„As you wish, my lady… what kind of _compensation_ you had in mind?”

Was he smirking and flirting again?

_Maker, this man was the incarnation of swinging mood!_

„First of all, you better don’t let you get killed. Everything _beyond_ that is entirely up to you.”

She looked up at him from her kneeling position and the angle alone made his blood rush.

„I think I can handle that.” He managed to say and helped her attaching the cuisse by holding it to his thigh so she could close the belts. After that, putting kneecaps and greaves went smooth and fast.

„Almost done.” She sighed and jumped up. „Let me put on my own stuff, then I’ll help you with some patch to steady that thumb and we can finally get onto your gauntlets.”

He stood and tried not to thank her again. She had been everything during the last moments: Friend, comrade, flirt, a lady to adore and a fellow companion, he trusted with his life by letting her take care for the only protection that would be between him and the enemy’s blades later. While he still tried to figure out what to do and say here, some old chivalrous reflex took over, that made him take her hand.

And he placed a soft kiss on her palm.

This time, she had nothing to reply, but an adorable blush - suddenly being more than aware that she had been jumping around him all this time with nothing on but a blanket- and when he said in a low voice „Thank you. For everything.” she could not answer.


End file.
